


The Stranger

by semi_sweet



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Future AU, Gen, Kinda, Miss Missing You, Oneshot, Peterick, Platonic Peterick, Religious Symbolism, Young Blood Chronicles, somewhat experimental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semi_sweet/pseuds/semi_sweet
Summary: Lucas took a careful step towards the man. “Do you live here?” He shook his head but didn’t lift his gaze. “How about… are you from here?” He shook his head again. Lucas’ throat felt dry, he had a feeling he should know the guy but he just didn’t, couldn’t quite place his face, like a dream that was slipping away from him after he’d woken up.“Then, if you don’t mind my asking, sir-““Pete.”“Pete… why would you come here?”What if Pete had survived the fight in the trailer park? And what if - after all this time - he still couldn't let go?





	The Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fobcc entry for November!   
> I know it's a little weird, but it takes some reading between the lines. Iäve given you enough clues to figure out what's going on... can you?

Everybody knew the stories. Every child in the village was raised on them, horrendous tales of the yellow-eyed demon that would come and snatch them from their beds if they misbehaved. It was something of a parenting method, no little kid stepped out of line when the consequence would likely be death and a gruesome one, at that. Whether those stories were true or not, that wasn’t relevant, at least not to the youngest. Of course there came an age where – like Santa and the Easter bunny – kids started questioning the stories they’d been raised on and the methods failed.

Lucas was at that age. He hated it when his mother still spoke to him like he was a little kid, he was 7 now, he wasn’t a child anymore like Tom or Sarah, he didn’t _want_ to hear the stupid stories about the demon coming to town, about him taking somebody once a year, every year, they were just dumb tales. None of his friends’ parents still told them, _they_ knew it was just made-up, _they_ weren’t stupid. They were cool! They let their kids stay out after dark and go off into the mountains. Not far, obviously, but still…

Every time Lucas wanted to head off or stay out, his mom would frown at him and pretend to be all worried and recite the stupid story about the stupid demon who took stupid people away. He didn’t believe it, it was just made-up!

Sometimes he wasn’t sure if his parents knew that. Most of the village didn’t go to the monthly Gratitude anymore, they didn’t wear uncomfy clothes they weren’t allowed to get dirty and trudge to the wooden pavilion at the creepy campsite outside of town every full moon. It was only ever him, his family, the Stoats and a lot of old people who all claimed to have _seen_ it, but somehow, Lucas didn’t believe them. They were just stupid stories, there were no such things as demons.

He stood uncomfortably below the roof shielding him from the glaring summer sun that burned over the dry land, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He wished he had a watch so he could see how much longer this stupid ceremony would take, he wanted to go away with Elena and David, whose parents had promised to drive them to the city for the day. At this rate, it wouldn’t be worth it, they’d have to go without him… Lucas had begged his parents to let him go, told them it wasn’t the end of the world if he missed Gratitude once, the Stranger would forgive him, but his father had firmly shaken his head and explained – like he did every time – that the Stranger had nothing to forgive, but was owed what little appreciation the town could show him or whatever. Lucas didn’t care much for strange men in old stories.

He said the words. Years and years of hearing them meant he knew exactly what the old woman at the front was preaching, it never changed, after all, it was always the same, repetitive rubbish. His little brother, blonde-haired and blue-eyedlike the rest of the family, still listened, thoroughly enraptured by what he was being told. He’d not heard it often enough for it to be dull yet, more importantly, he still believed it. He’d grow out of it. Aside from the old people, everybody seemed to.

It had been fun, at first, the story of how the dark-haired man had fought and killed the demon had pretty much been the only gruesome story accessible to him as a child, but now… his friends all had phones and the internet, they could access much cooler stories! He didn’t need to hear about a man with yellow eyes slicing people open with a hook, it was too soft, not real enough, it just wasn’t believable.

Lucas slipped out of the row, excusing himself, claiming he needed the toilet just so he could get out of the tiny crowd. The sun was hot and burning and he was sweating beneath his heavy button-up shirt. Everything was uncomfy.

“You’ve got it hard, kid.” The sudden voice made Lucas spin around in search of its source. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, one of the old people, maybe, but certainly not….

He was, like… cool! He had black, spiky hair and tattoos on his arm, Lucas could see from where his jacket sleeves were rolled up. And he was pretty young. Well, old, but young old! Not as old as his parents, probably. Definitely cooler, the way he was sitting on the drywall a few paces away from him, his legs casually dangling and drawing Lucas’ attention to the sneakers he was wearing. He recognized him from somewhere. “Hello, sir, do I… know you?” The man smiled. It was a sad smile, kind of, but it seemed real. “In a way.” He looked down at the dirt below him, at the single blades of dry grass pushing through the hard ground in an attempt to drink the sunlight. Lucas took a careful step towards the man. “Do you live here?” He shook his head but didn’t lift his gaze. “How about… are you from here?” He shook his head again. Lucas’ throat felt dry, he had a feeling he _should_ know the guy but he just _didn’t_ , couldn’t quite place his face, like a dream that was slipping away from him after he’d woken up.

“Then, if you don’t mind my asking, sir-“

“Pete.”

“Pete… why would you come here?” Pete didn’t react, his gaze stayed fixed on the blade of grass, his feet continued kicking against the stone. “I mean…” Lucas shifted awkwardly, not liking the silence that followed his questioning, “it’s just… boring and… nothing happens and it’s all old people and they’re weird and they do weird things and tell weird stories and-“

Pete chuckled. It took him by surprise, the sudden change of demeanour, but it didn’t seem nasty. “You wanna get out, kid? See the big city, uh? Be… normal?”

“Yes.” There was a prolonged pause, as though Pete was trying to put together the words floating around his head that would best verbalize what he wanted to say. His hot, whiskey eyes fixed on the sky and he looked like he was a million miles away and not about to answer anytime soon. Then, he sighed heavily. “So did I when I was your age. Fuck, that makes me sound old.” He shot Lucas a warning look, “don’t swear, kid.”

Lucas nodded obediently. He wouldn’t dare, not in front of his mom. “Why don’t you anymore?” Pete shrugged. “I kinda had it all and didn’t realize it and now I lost it.” That made no sense. Lucas frowned at him and in return, Pete smiled. “Ignore me, I’m being all dumb and adult.” The kid wandered over and perched himself on the wall next to the newcomer. His feet dangling just shy of the floor were only a little humiliating.

“Why are you here?” He asked the question again because he’d never got a straight answer. Pete sat up a little, stretching his back as he looked into the sun. “Why are you?” Lucas frowned. He didn’t want clever replies, he wanted straight answers! “Because I live here”, he did his best to sound irritated. All that earned was a chuckle. “No, no, I mean, like, here, right here at this…” he gestured to the pavilion behind them “church or… whatever.” Was he serious? What did it have to do with anything? “To… I dunno, it’s some dumb tradition, I-“

“Do you know the origins of it?” Lucas stayed silent, confused about the topic. “Don’t judge a tradition if you don’t know its origins.” Pete looked over his shoulder at the silly wooden hut in the middle of the desert. “but agreed, this one is pretty dumb. I don’t think he’d appreciate this kind of pseudo-religion at all.”

“Who?”

“Patrick.”

“Who’s Patrick?”

“My best friend.”

“Oh.” Lucas kicked against the drywall, trying to wrap his head around what was going on. “And what does Patrick have to do with this?” Pete smiled and looked at the dirt. “What’s the story they tell you? In that church thing?”

Lucas rapidly blinked the way he always did when he got confused. His mom hated it. “They… I mean it’s all nonsense, but… my mom told me about a yellow-eyed demon that would come and eat babies and take children and he’d come every year and everybody was terrified of him and they’d start picking out, like, sacrifices and stuff and… well, one day, this guy showed up and people say he had like a machete thing? Yeah? And- and a briefcase or something? And he KILLED the demon! Stone-dead! So we thank him for that. And they say he still watches him! The demon, the Stranger, he, uh, watches him, just from a distance to make sure he won’t do it again. Because he’s not really dead, see? My mom says it’s… like not literally, it’s about all our demons or, or whatever, like, but an immortal demon is so much cooler!” Suddenly, he became aware of his enthusiasm. Not cool. He needed to be cool. He didn’t care, they were just dumb stories. “I mean… the old people go. And my parents. I don’t care. They’re just stories.”

Pete sighed heavily once Lucas had stopped talking. He was still staring at nothing. He seemed to do that a lot. He did make brooding look pretty cool, though. Lucas wondered if he’d be that cool someday, with torn black jeans and a tattered black jacket and facial hair and tattoos. But he seemed kinda sad. Adults were dumb like that, they thought they could hide their sadness because they were so bad at spotting it. But Lucas wasn’t an adult and – for once – he was proud of that.

“Why are you sad?” Might as well ask directly, right? Pete glanced down at him, his warm, brown eyes soft caring and kind. “You’re so attentive, it’s incredible. Always wondered how a person could be as good as you. It’s not fair, is it? The way fate sticks us in our stupid roles.” Lucas shook his little head, “no, it’s not.” For a while, he was convinced Pete wouldn’t tell him. Adults did that, they’d always tell you to tell the truth and then lie and lie and lie themselves.

“I’m sad because my best friend deserved better. He was, uh, treated very, very unfairly, you see. Fate wasn’t kind to him. And now he’s… stuck. Kinda. And he doesn’t know. And I don’t know how to help him out.” That was confusing. Why were grown-ups always confusing? “If he diesn’t know he’s stuck, is he unhappy?” Pete frowned at him, his eyes bored into Lucas’ soul until he felt like hed fall apart if he didn’t look away. “I don’t think so.”

“Then why do you need to get him out?” there was a pause that signalled some kind of draw, like Pete had hit a dead-end. “Because he’s stuck. And it’s my job to help him, that’s what the guy upstairs told me.”

“But he’s not unhappy?”

“No.”

“Then why does it matter?” Pete bit his lip. He looked like he was thinking hard. Lucas wondered what he was thinking about.

“How long has this church been up?”  Lucas looked at the wooden construction behind him as though he could guess its age that way. He was sure he’d learned this. “150 years!” yes, he remembered! His mom had told him often enough. “And how old are you?”

“Seven!” He was sure he could trust Pete, he was fine. “Seven…” he repeated. “Works.”

“What works?”

“Huh?” Pete glanced up at him, wide-eyed browns glinting in the sun. “oh, nothing. Just… don’t worry about it.” And then he pushed himself off the wall and stretched, his back popping obscenely with the motion. Lucas had never ever liked that noise. There was something about it, the thought of joints cracking that just… ugh. The worst were fingers. No, the worst were wrists. They just seemed so fragile to him. Maybe that was down to when he broke his left one after he fell off his bike. It had hurt so much he’d been certain he was gonna lose his hand.

“You’re right, kid.” There was a certain kind of determination in Pete’s voice when he turned back round to face him, “about my friend. He seems to be okay. No, I know he’s going to be. He’s on the right path already.” In two strides, he was standing right in front of Lucas and he crouched down so he was just below his eye-level. There was something so nice about his eyes, it felt like home. Even though Lucas wanted to murder him when he ruffled through his dirty-blonde hair. “Take care, kid. Don’t believe everything they tell you. And… if you ever need a hand just… just think of the Stranger, yeah? I know you think it’s dumb, but… all stories have… they’re true somewhere. You never know, he might show up again.” Lucas frowned at him. “You leaving?” He didn’t want Pete to leave, Pete was the most exciting thing that had happened to this down in years! “Why?”

He smiled kindly. “That friend I told you about-“

“Patrick?”

“Yes…” he looked so sad “Patrick. He… he was here. Once. Well. A lot. But… never mind. He doesn’t need me anymore. And I shouldn’t need him, so…” None of this made any sense whatsoever.

“Have you ever had a pet? A dog or a cat or, I dunno, a bug you found and grew attatched to?” Yes. Vicky, their little dog. She’d died when he was five. He missed her a lot. Lucas nodded. “And thinking about her, does it hurt?” He nodded again. “When I’m here, all I can think about is Patrick. And how good he was and how he didn’t deserve any of it and how maybe if I’d just waited, just a little longer he’d… well. It doesn’t matter now.” Pete stood up. He didn’t tower over Lucas, not like some grown-ups.

He was so friendly and he spoke to him properly, it was nice. He didn’t treat him like a little kid.

He didn’t want him to leave.

“If you get into trouble-“

“Think of the Stranger, yes.” Pete smiled fondly. “Clever boy. You’re gonna be just fine, I know it.” He ruffled over the mop of messy blonde hair again and Lucas had to fight the urge not to swat his hand away. “Goodbye, kid. I’ll see you in the next life.”

And then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My tumblr is scmi-sweet


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